


Make Up Your Mind

by benevolens



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009) RPF
Genre: F/M, Florence + the Machine References, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Song: Make Up Your Mind, Songfic, Those damnable feelingsssss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benevolens/pseuds/benevolens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's got a decision to make when Molly finally seems finished with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Up Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!  
> So, I was listening to the latest Florence album and track number 13, Make Up Your Mind, made this little story pop into my head. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I think it end up going down a pretty nice path. It's unbeat'd because I've literally just finished typing and just felt like putting it out there (minor amounts of laziness are involved).  
> Also, I appreciate all the comments and kudos you all leave behind. It means a lot. So, thank you.
> 
> xx

When he steps into her flat (breaks in… well he does have a key…), he can’t quite see her, but he can smell whatever she has started cooking up in the kitchen. Meanwhile, his ears are bombarded by the music Molly has playing on nearly full volume.

It’s one of those bands she likes. The one with the frontwoman, he recognises.

**{ _Every time I try to bring it down  
You always turn my head around_ …}**

He sits down quietly as the chorus begins and can suddenly hear, petite Molly Hooper belting out the words.

 **{** _Make up your mind_  
Let me leave or let me love you  
While you've been saving your neck  
I've been breaking mine for you}

He’s sliding his arms out of his Belstaff, toeing off his shoes, then settling back into the sofa with his feet up and legs stretched out across the rest of the cushions. From this angle, Sherlock can see her in the kitchen, passionately moving from one area to another as she sets things away, pulls them out, and adds some to one of the pots before repeating. But Molly always seems to stop on the chorus, close her eyes and sing the words with such conviction, as if she were telling him. Reminding him…

 **{** _The power is on, the guillotine hums_  
My back's to the wall - go on, let it fall  
Make up your mind,  
Before I make it up for you }

The words (because he is paying firm attention to his pathologist) are resonating with some part of him.

 **{** _I never thought that I'd be facing_  
A sea that's bluer than the tide  
Now my knees are shaking  
And I can't look in your eyes }

A part which he desires to push back down and shove into a closet on the far side of his mind palace, but if he is truly to heed the words nearly being sung at him, Sherlock knows he’s got to embrace it. He’s got to make up his mind before she does something more to make a decision for him. One he may come to regret.

**{ _Make up your mind,  
Before I make it up for you_ }**

The song ends and Molly sighs happily. He knows this is one of her ways to let off steam, to get her feelings out (just in the same way he uses his violin and composition skills). Sherlock’s got a half a mind to get up and walk into the kitchen and… Then what? Do what? Tell her he has made up his mind?

Might just work.

(If he chooses his words correctly)

He laughs softly because Molly still hasn’t noticed him yet and he’s been sitting there on her sofa for the better part of five minutes (it’s also quite dangerous considering the circumstances). Sherlock moves slowly to pull himself out of his seat and shuffle towards the kitchen. He ends up leaning in the doorway, smiling to himself as his pathologist continues to sing to herself of love, heartache and hard choices.

“I always knew you had a lovely voice.” He begins, still smiling while his arms are crossed in front of his chest.

They haven’t quite spoken for the better part of two weeks if you counted his four minute exile, the broadcast and her stubbornness to keep giving him the cold shoulder.

_“_ _How could you go off to die without telling me?! How dare you think sorry will suffice?!”_

_  
_ Sherlock was convinced she was going to deliver several more (mostly deserved) blows to his face. However, he’d simply received the cold shoulder while she turned to his brother (of all people!) to try and figure out what to do about Moriarty’s sudden appearance.

Her reaction to him this time has Sherlock stumbling backwards to avoid the swipe of a very dirty looking paring knife.

“Sherlock Bloody Holmes!” She’s screeching expletives as the knife drops from her hand and she covers her face.

“You’d do better damage with the butcher’s knife…I’m sorry for frightening you, Molly.” He offers softly while making his way closer. Sherlock’s highly aware that she’s going to push him away, especially by the way her body had begun to hunch over when she hid her face from him. So, instead, he chooses to keep talking and keep some distance (no matter how much his arms ache to pull her close).

“You won’t talk to me. You won’t even look at me anymore. Am I to understand we are no longer friends? I can’t have that, Molly.” He finds himself stepping a little closer.

“I know my apology doesn’t make up for the fact that I nearly left without a goodbye. You must trust me when I say that I’ve contemplated how much that must hurt and I hate myself for doing it. I selfishly kept it from you for fear of being unable to let you go.” His nose twitches while Sherlock’s trying to keep the stupid water from coming out of his damn eyes.  
“Because, Molly Hooper, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you goodbye again.”

It seems to be working and she’s uncurling slowly, hands falling to her sides, but she’s crying!

Ugh! He hates making her cry. It’s the worst thing he can do to her, to this creature made of love and light…light that melts the chains around his imprisoned heart.

But, this time, he’s going to make it up to her. He’ll do whatever she wants him to. He’ll walk around on his knees behind her, hands clasped as if in prayer and beg her forgiveness if need be.

He’s desperate.

Sherlock’s inching closer again and his arms seem to go up in front of him while his mind is thinking of what to tell her next.

“You see, I’ve had my mind made up for quite some time. I really can’t find it in myself to let you leave me or I you….The only way to keep you is to let you love me and,” Sherlock licks his lips as his mouth goes dry. His hands have a mind of their own because he’s grabbed onto her shoulders to coax her into his embrace.

“And love you, in return.”

He’s watching a million thoughts go through her mind behind her eyes, even as they are set on his mouth or looking right back at him. They’re blurry now though and her eyelids are fluttering closed. Sherlock doesn’t exactly know what that means until he feels her start to buckle and immediately pulls her up against him.

“Molly, please…Are you, okay?” He’s panicking and doesn’t know why she could possibly be so faint. “Deep breaths. In—Out…” Sherlock repeats the instruction a few times before Molly’s following and puts her arms around him, pressing her warm, wet face against his shoulder.

Now, Sherlock’s privy to feeling every breath, every beat of her heart and how her body shakes while she tries not to sob in front of him.

He’s not sure what more to do, but his hands decide for him. One rests on her lower back, rubbing it gently after having pulled the fabric of her jumper up. The other cradles the back of her head, keeping her pressed to him. He hopes it brings her some comfort when her hands curl around the little loose material of his shirt.

“Molly?” Sherlock presses in the softest of tones. He didn’t know his voice could be so…gentle.

“Molly, say something. At least tell me you’re okay?”

Her head moves up and down and he feels her nose rub his shoulder while she nods. Sherlock wants to savour the feeling and clip it in his mind for later, especially if this doesn’t play out. Now, he’s berating himself for ever having put this off when he could have felt so complete with her in his arms years ago.

It’s a miscalculation that has cost him.

He always misses something.

But, her head is finally lifting and her grip on him is tightening. Sherlock supresses a moan when her fingers dig into his sides. She’s still angry.

“Do you mean it?” He almost strains to hear her and leans in closer, nose inches away from hers (A part of him is looking for the file on compliments he wanted to make about her nose. Adorable is the obvious one, but he wants to tell her the one that encompasses how he feels about it best).

Maybe smiling wasn’t the right reaction, but he can’t help when his lips stretch across his face.

“I don’t ever say things I don’t mean…” His smile faltered and he bit down on his bottom lip (subconsciously echoing her habit…interesting).

“Except when I say horrible things. I’m a vicious ass at times.” He corrects (his heart seems to be nearly beating out of his chest).

“So, you love me?” She moves closer and Molly has pressed her bloody cute little nose against his.

“I did say that, yes. I’m glad you’re talking to me again, Molly.” Sherlock is smiling again and he feels….jittery. Jittery and shaky and like he’s going to explode if he can’t pull her close again (this he didn’t like…or did he? To be explored later).

“I’ve missed you.” He blurts out, even as he notes her mouth opening to reply.

“Say it again.”

“I missed you, Molly.”

“No, the other one.” There’s an impatient huff and Sherlock rushes to rectify his mistake.

“I, Sherlock Holmes, who has detested the three words of previously inscrutable importance, have come around to understanding their meaning. Molly Hooper,” Sherlock’s pulled her flush against him and can feel their ragged and hot breath mingling. “I am in love with you.”

There is no way of stopping the barrage of things that happen next. There aren’t many words (Molly has seemed to be more quiet than he’s ever experienced), but there is a lot grabbing and tugging and suddenly, legs around hips (she’s climbing him…he wants to laugh). Finally, Sherlock feels her soft, warm lips against his in what can only be the sweetest of brushes. It erases the jittery, shakiness in his body and replaces it with nothing, but warmth and strength.

His arms lock under her bottom to hold her up, least he keep her from claiming what’s hers and Molly’s working hard at making his mouth pliant, to take everything she has wanted from him. His lips part instantaneously with a swipe on her tongue.

A thought pops into his head: He hopes to let her devour him entirely, one kiss at a time.

Sherlock is letting her hands wander and tangle with his hair (letting her do it doesn’t mean he’s not liking every single second). So, he finds his legs slowly walking back towards the sofa and eases them down slowly. He’s set her in his lap and now that she has the stability, Molly can really do whatever she wants to him.

It’s all the response he needs and far surpasses any expectation he had of the results of his conversation.

All he wanted was for her to talk to him.

All she had ever wanted was to love him.  
He’d make damn sure that she was never left wanting of his love and devotion.

That was truly his last vow.

 


End file.
